Catharsis.

Beginning again should always inspire hope, but the night beyond these conservatory window panes is too dark and the future too uncertain. We’ve all felt that inner stirring with the conception of the notion of how truly unwritten the future is; but this time it aint pretty. The stakes are higher this time than ever before. I’m not sure that where I find myself next year will be a happy place or even whether it will be progress. A bright, exciting future seems to rest upon too many contigencies; contingencies which I am grappling for but remain precariously out of reach like the apple halfway up the tree. Contingencies which are columns that sway and almost crumble with the to-ing and fro-ing of bi-polar, an emotional and mental earthquake which shakes my entire world for days or weeks. Moods are tides and perspectives are always temporary in this place, this head.

This time I just realised how bloody tired I was of constantly rebeginning; drifting onward with no acknowledgement of the past lest it haunts me, which it often does anyway. So as a small gesture to something or someone, some force in the universe, I revisited this wordpress instead of constructing a new one and escaping past failures. The wordpress which could have done so much for me, the wordpress I had a duty to write in, to maintain, to show to the world. It would have been all I really had to show to the world, but here I am, three years on still with nothing to show the world or to represent me. At 20. At 17, you missed an opportunity, but there will be other chances you can take – you’re still just a kid. At 20, when you still haven’t taken that chance, either you aint the kid you thought you were or something’s really gone wrong. My conclusion wavers between the two each day. Even I myself represent none of the true values I have and I am painfully confronting this in order to change such a fact.

Advertisement